


Artificial Degradation

by emmaliza



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Comeplay, Consentacles, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29916285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: There is pleasure in it, feeling so small and helpless, giving one’s self over to be used and abused entirely. It’s part of why the Federation still reigns; that some part of humanity welcomes the liberation from their own self-responsibility, even as they loathe the oppression. Blake, for obvious reasons, cannot afford to give into that instinct often. But like this...
Relationships: Roj Blake/Zen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: The House Always Sins





	Artificial Degradation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in the Gauda Prime Social Club's fanzine, _The House Always Sins_.

It is a pleasure firmly removed from anything real, anything natural, from the limits of human biology. Whenever he feels unsatisfied for a split second, Zen has another mechanical coil on offer, ready to fill whatever void needs filling. He can let himself be wrapped and squeezed and groped all over, cold metal stinging against his nipples, grinding the bulge in his trousers ruthlessly against the thick tentacle ensnaring his thigh, feeling one metal rope push inches down his throat while he struggles not to gag, before it pulls away and lets another take its place.

He turns his head this way and that to greedily meet this robotic storm of cock so many times he gets dizzy. There is pleasure in it, feeling so small and helpless, giving one’s self over to be used and abused entirely. It’s part of why the Federation still reigns; that some part of humanity welcomes the liberation from their own self-responsibility, even as they loathe the oppression. Blake, for obvious reasons, cannot afford to give into that instinct often. But like this...

He is shaking, his own cock swollen to the point of bursting as he gorges himself on artificial degradation. Zen remains as coolly monotone as ever as he asks: “Do you require my ejaculate now?”

The computer is rational enough to know he has to stop fucking Blake’s throat for him to be able to answer. Blake himself, fucked to the point of near madness, is not so rational; he snarls like a wild animal denied its dinner. “Yes, yes, for god’s sakes Zen, come all over me, soak me with it, now!”

Zen obeys his instruction to the letter, a dozen cables releasing jets of fluid all at once, sending Blake into a trembling, blinding orgasm at the feel of this flood of synthesised come hitting his skin. It is everywhere on him, his face, his chest, staining his shirt and trousers, winding through his hair. He opens his mouth in a moan, and Zen, for once not requiring specific instructions, aims a final load squarely at the back of his throat, landing with a taste bitter and acrid as a cigarette, and just as addictive.


End file.
